


Lost in Mountains, Found in your Heart

by LadyCeleste



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Still a Witcher, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Romance, Royalty, Witcher Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCeleste/pseuds/LadyCeleste
Summary: RoyalAu! Jaskier, on the run from his awful family, ends up lost near the treacherous mountains of Kaer Morhen. Lord Vesemir, cautious of another assault on the keep decides to hold Jaskier prisoner. Slowly the bard finds a place for himself there and falls in love with the very handsome White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia. Forming a true family with his captors and the other witchers of Kaer Morhen.
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	Lost in Mountains, Found in your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fanfic in this fandom. This is mostly for fun and practice. So, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks!

**Chapter 1**

The drop would surely kill him. Tugging again on his makeshift rope, testing once more if the sheets would hold him. He secures the end to his bedpost as tight as he can manage. Taking one more looking out the window of his golden prison. His bedroom for the last fortnight. A tower, the tallest one attached to the manor. His father's last attempt at keeping Julien under his boot.

Throwing his ‘rope’ out the window, he heaves himself slowly over the edge and tries to gracefully escape. Though not his first time, the other windows did tend to be lower. The rope suddenly extends as the bed shifts closer to the window and Julien drops many feet along the wall of the tower, holding unto the rope to not fall. He lowers himself for the rest of the way.

Taking off in the night towards the woods. The only sign he was there, the bedsheets hanging out the window.

Julien had no plan of where to go or what to do, but he figured he could find shelter. His worn-out lute attached to his back was sure to earn him some money. After all, he was a master of the seven arts.

The woods were thick and gloomy, noises sounding from every corner. Julien could feel the uneasy growing in his heart.

* * *

He spent ages travelling alone, playing at taverns like a proper bard. Until he found himself lost in the woods of Kaedwen. Winter was near so the ground was cold and the trees were dying, his breath also visible. He normally prided himself in never believing lost- not that he had any reason to be. Before leaving Lettenhove, Julien had never visited anywhere without family or guards. But now he could not tell one way from the other. He hoped that if he wandered around enough he would find a town before it began to freeze.

His luck was seemingly running out.

“Left, dead trees. Right, more dead trees.” he pondered which way to wander when out of nowhere a hand grabs him, clamping around his face with a blade pressed against his neck. His heart raced, he’d run into many bandits on his journeys so far. Usually managing to swindle his way out without losing his life. His dagger often helped with that but his hands were frozen and his expensive noblemen’s clothes not suitable for winter.

“What do we have here?” the stronger man growls. “What brings a small thing like you to the Blue Mountains?”

 _The Blue Mountains? The ones haunted and plagued by monstrous men._ He must have travelled far from the village he last performed at. Struggling against the man's grip, finally, the brute released his mouth.

“I can promise you I am certainly not small where it counts.” he huffs out, offended by this barb about his manhood. The man laughs sharply, clearly startled by Julien's prodigious humour.

“Shall I confirm?” his voice teasing and seductive all at once.

“If you so much as try, I will stab you.” Julien grits out.

“I cannot imagine you’d be able to.” his breath warm against the bard's ears. “With me restraining and all.” the bard tries again with to break free.

“Who are you?” the man growls again, clearly losing interest in the game.

“Jaskier The bard.”

“Dandelion?”

“It’s a rather lovely name I think-”

“What is a bard doing miles from the nearest village and halfway up our Mountain.”

Fuck.

“I was lost actually. Trying to find the next village, to perform at.”

“I believe you.”

“Really?!-”

“Yes. You just happened to be lost around our hidden keep and not at all poorly trying to sneak in and what? Murder some of us.”

“No! I swear! I really wasn't trying to do that at all. I was just-” a sharp pain in the back of his head cuts off his words while the world goes black.

* * *

Waking up on the cold floor of a dungeon should have been more terrifying but Julien was just glad when he saw his precious lute sitting in the corner. At least his brutish kidnapper did not leave it in the woods.

“You’ve finally woken up.” a young girl speaks from the other side of the bars, startling Julien.

“Hello, young lady. You are?”

“Not supposed to say. Not supposed to be here either. But Uncle brought in a prisoner. We don't get many of those, figured you’d be interesting.”

“Ah, not afraid I’ll escape and assassinate you.” _A smart thing to say, Julien,_ he thinks. _The most efficient way to be proven innocent: jokingly threaten a random young lady._

“I could probably kill you before you’d escape. You look about as strong as a little girl.”

“Are you not a little girl? And I would have to disagree. I’ve stabbed men bigger than me.”

“So, you are an assassin then?”

“No, I didn’t say a killed them. Merely stabbed them. Sometimes as a bard you get in sticky situations and people need to be stabbed or-” fucked. Not something he should say to a young respectable woman.

“-fucked. My uncle says the same. Dad says he's a drunk whore and to ignore him though.” the girl sits down crossed from him.

“If you're a bard, that means you can sing, right?”

“Yes. I have a wonderful voice and my songs are quite famous.” Well, they were becoming quite famous anyway.

“My mother would- could you sing for me?” she shyly asks. “No one else can sing around here and my tutor says a can’t hold a note.”

“Of course, for a lovely lady like you, always.” He grabbed his lute from across the cell and began to sing ‘Winter’. It seemed fitting.

_“Around your house, now white from frost_

_Sparkles ice on pond and marsh_

_Your longing eyes grieve what is lost_

_But naught can change this parting harsh..."_

He continues to sing for the young girl, ballad after ballad until a familiar man walks into the dungeon.

“Ciri! What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, Uncle. I just wanted to hear him sing.” She pouts and pulling puppy eyes. The man grunts. He was noticing a pattern of tight-lipped violent people.

“Go find your father. No more coming down here.” The young girl runs up the stairs off to where the rest of the keep.

“Come, The Lord will see you.” The red-headed man grabs and drags Julien to the lords ‘throne room’.

A man stood before him, white-haired and elderly but still holding a powerful gaze. The man looked deadly, weather-worn. Whoever these men were they were clearly battle-trained and would most likely kill Julien before he could escape. Better wait for the most opportune moment.

“Lost in the mountain, were you?”

“Yes actually. I am Jaskier the bard. You may know me from my great hits; they’re all the rage. Everyone's singing them, of course. I was simply wandering trying to find a village to perform at next when this man grabbed me, accused me and imprisoned me. So, it was just a misunderstanding and I’ll be on my way as soon as can be.”

“There’s a slight issue.” Julien’s heart stopped. “Whether you are an assassin or not. You have seen the keep therefore we can’t risk letting you leave. You’ll have to stay.”

“You’re keeping me, prisoner!?”

“A permeant guest, more like. Lambert set him up with a room.”

“Are you sure-”

“He won’t be able to take any of us and if he makes it out of the keep the winter will kill him. He’ll be wise to stay put and follow orders.” The man’s tone and expression left no room for any argument. With the low chance of survival, it seemed if he had any hope of escaping it would have to wait until spring.


End file.
